Big John Hudson burst through the front door of Sarah’s Diner (just like he usually did), tossed his ball cap down onto the big round table with a flourish reminiscent of a tuba player dotting the “i” on a fall Saturday afternoon (just like he usually did), and said something ridiculous (just like he usually did).

“I have proof that aliens walk among us,” which was not what he usually said because “walk among us” was not in his lexicon until he recently received a phrase-of-the-day calendar for his birthday.

“Aliens, as in illegal aliens that sneak across the border from Iceland?” asked Jimmy (because talking with Big John, sometimes, required just such an approach).

“Nope. Aliens, as in just got off the mother ship from Uranus.”

“The kind with little green bodies, big heads, little black eyes, and three skinny fingers?” asked Harry (because clogging up Big John’s bombasts with requests for details often helped to derail his rants — besides, it was fun).

“They’re not usually green, but some of them do have big heads, and some of them have little eyes, and I don’t know about how many fingers they have.” John sounded more sincere and genuine than most hallucinating people do. “They look like regular people, except they don’t look very regular.”

“What’s this about them sailing out of your anus?” asked Firewalker (because he could always be counted on to go there).

Sarah filled John’s cup with hot coffee and waited patiently for him to order the same ham and cheese omelet that he always ordered.

Big John ignored Firewalker’s remark, due to his intense attention on his own commentary. “I’ve met them. They are real. And they are real weird.”

Growing tired of waiting for John to focus on the task at hand, Sarah took it upon herself to place his order (which is what she usually did when Big John Hudson’s crazy train pulled out of the station with him chasing wildly after it).

“Weird, like the way milk tastes after three days in the refrigerator in an open carton?” asked Tommy Jones (because three day old milk tastes weird to Tommy).

“No. Weird, like purple hair, strange smells, and no fashion sense.”

“When, where, and how did you meet these aliens?” asked Harry, regretting each word as he said them.

“At their mother ship. It’s huge. Every day they come to the mother ship to wait for transportation back to wherever they came from.” John eliminated any reference to the planet Uranus, which essentially took Firewalker out of the conversation. “Every day they show up. I’ve been there. I’ve seen it.” John’s sincerity was hard to deny (also, hard to comprehend).

“How did you stumble upon a space ship filled with little green people?” Mort wondered aloud, while hoping to not be heard.

“Like I said, most of them aren’t green. Some of them are little, but a lot of them look like everybody else…except for the strange ways that they look and act that isn’t like everybody else. That gives away the truth about them being aliens.” Big John thanked Sarah for his coffee refill by looking up and giving her a nod and a smile of appreciation. “Strange looking creatures from all over the universe hang out at that mother ship.”

“You went to Walmart again, didn’t you?” asked Sarah. “Next time, this coffee ends up in your lap.”

Question: How can you tell that aliens walk among us?

Answer: They dot their “i’s” with a tuba player. Go Blue!

Larry Wilson is a mostly lifelong resident of Niles. His optimistic “glass full to overflowing” view of life shapes his writing. His essays stem from experiences, compilations and recollections from friends and family. Wilson touts himself as “a dubiously licensed teller of tall tales, sworn to uphold the precept of ‘It’s my story; that’s the way I’m telling it.’” He can be reached at wflw@hotmail.com.